


weapons in play

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, background Uklan Tel/a star, befriending beings you find on the side of the road, post-episode: Winter in Hieron 27 A Good Metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 12:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11252907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Fero, Uklan Tel, a former star, and an undead Ordenan walk into a bar. The bar is the end of the world.





	weapons in play

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after Winter in Hieron 27: A Good Metaphor, and will probably (definitely) be non-canonical after the next ep comes out.
> 
> Huge thanks to Sophie for her speedy and thorough betaing and to Maddie, for coming to my aid at many points in this fic (but especially at the end). Without the two of you nothing I write would ever get done.

“Right, so,” says Uklan, his hands fluttering over his pocket-covered cloak.

 

For a moment, the motion of it reminds Fero of Lem, and he has to bite down on his tongue to distract himself from the hot prickle of irritation clawing at his throat. He looks down, pulling at the straps of his own pack, as if to check they’re secure. It’s Lem’s pack, really, since Morbash took his. Their gear is mostly the same, and Lem can’t use it where he is anyhow. Wherever that is.

 

Fero takes a breath in through his nose before he looks up, making sure there’s a bright and easy grin on his face as he does so.

 

“Ready to go?” says Fero.

 

Uklan blinks, gaze flicking towards the doorway. “Oh, I thought-- you don’t want to wait for Ephrim and Throndir?”

 

“They didn’t wait for me,” says Fero.

 

Uklan rubs the back of his neck. “It seemed like they were in kind of a rush.”

 

“That’s fine,” says Fero, “So are we.”

 

“Is that, um… standard practice in adventuring?” says Uklan.

 

“More than you’d think,” says Fero, pulling the pack onto his back, testing the weight of it. It’s heavy, but his usually is too. It’s fine. “Depends who you adventure with, I guess.”

 

“Right,” says Uklan, fiddling with the wood toggles of his cloak. 

 

His pack looks too small to Fero’s eye, but Fero doesn’t mention it. Maybe it just looks that way from how broad Uklan’s shoulders are, and anyway, it’s not his job to train first time adventurers. He did that with Lem and look how that worked out. Uklan’s supplies are Uklan’s business.

 

They don’t meet Ephrim or Throndir on their way down the mountain and away from the New Archives. Uklan babbles excuses for them: Arrell is a dangerous foe and with lots of information they might need, the place they went to face him is on the opposite side of the Archives, there are many things that could have waylaid them on their way there or back. Fero nods, watching his footing on the stony ground. The reason Uklan doesn’t mention-- that they forgot to come back for him-- feels heavy in Fero chest.

 

If he’d waited for them, it only would have wasted more time, and even then they probably would have wanted to do whatever  _ their _ plan was  _ first _ and saving the world  _ second _ even though it was  _ clearly _ more urgent than their petty revenge.

 

Fantasmo had been his friend, too, but saving the whole of Hieron seems like more of a priority.

 

Anyway, Throndir's a ranger. If he and Ephrim want to find Fero, they can track him. 

 

Fero keeps having to slow down and wait for Uklan. For someone who’s spent his entire life in the Archives he’s not as steady on his feet on the rocky soil as Fero would expect. It takes them much longer to make it as far away from the Archives as Fero had hoped. Uklan’s shoulder are slumped as they make camp, and they slump even further when he realises the sandwich he made for the trip has gone soggy.

 

Fero rummages around in his pack and hands Uklan some of the rations he knows are in Lem's pack from Rosemerrow -- small loaves filled with meat and herbs. By the time Lem gets back from wherever they sent him they’ll probably be stale, so it’s fine. Lem's not here to argue with him, anyway. 

 

Uklan takes the rolls gratefully, eating quickly before he lies down to sleep. Fero figures this means Uklan wants him to take first watch.

 

He looks back in his own pack, checking the remaining rations he has, considering whether or not he should go hunting to get supplies before they leave the part of the woods he knows well. His fingers touch something cold and dry, something like paper but more alive.

 

Fero pulls it out slowly. It’s Lem’s plant, looking even more worse for wear than the last time Fero saw it. He sets the pot on the ground in front of him, touching its soil carefully with his fingertips. It seems a little damp, the leaves drooping down. Maybe it just misses the sun. Fero can’t blame it for that.

 

“You okay buddy?” asks Fero quietly.

 

He tries to ask the question in a way the plant can understand him too, sending a questioning sense as he touches his fingers to the tips of the plant’s leaves. The plant hesitates before it answers him, giving him a sense of a rush of cold water, the vibrations of being jolted up and down for hours.

 

“Sounds like a bad trip,” says Fero.

 

There’s a feeling of bells in response-- not the sound of them exactly, but the feeling the sound creates. It takes Fero a moment to realise it’s laughter. He smiles.

 

“You need anything?”

 

Warmth flicks over Fero’s skin for a second, and he looks up, half-expecting to see the sun.

 

“Oh,” says Fero, looking down at the plant, “Nothing I can do about that yet, sorry. That’s next on my list, I guess. But, uh--”

 

He searches in the bag for a moment, pulling out a ragged scarf and wrapping it around the pot.

 

“That might help?” says Fero, “I’ll keep you in one of the side pockets, so you can get some air at least.”

 

Fero wraps his arms around the pot, trying to bring some warmth back to the soil. The plant sends back the feeling of a warm breeze.

 

“I told Lem he should have let me take care of you,” mutters Fero.

 

This time it’s the plant who sends him the questioning feeling, accompanied by its memory of Lem’s hands plucking off dead leaves.

 

“He’s gone,” says Fero.

 

The plant sends the dead leaves again, with sadness.

 

“Oh, not like that, he’s fine, probably,” says Fero, quickly, “He’s always getting into trouble and he’s always just fine. Can’t imagine it’s any different when I’m not there, since he never listens to my advice anyway.”

 

“What?”

 

Fero’s head snaps up. Uklan is watching him, eyes still heavy with sleep.

 

“Nothing, just-- nothing,” says Fero, “But since you’re up, you can take the watch.”

 

Uklan frowns. “Oh. Right.”

 

Fero lies down, facing away from Uklan and curling his body around the plant. It’s an uncomfortable position, and it takes him a long time to fall into sleep.

 

 

The following days are much the same. Uklan’s map leads them on a winding path out of the mountains and into the sloping hills beyond as they head towards the coast. The flatter terrain helps Uklan walk faster for the first half of the day, but he starts to lag behind after they've been walking for a few hours.

 

“Adventuring is a lot harder on the feet than I thought it would be,” says Uklan, after they stop for another rest.

 

Fero looks down at his own bare feet, wriggling his toes on the frozen ground. “I guess.”

 

They pass through a town on the third day. It’s eerily quiet, faces peeking out from behind doorways and shutters as they pass through an empty marketplace. Fero ignores the itching feeling on the back of his neck as he buys more supplies (mostly for Uklan-- Fero can’t believe he only brought the one sandwich. Not babysitting new adventurers is one thing but he's not going to let the guy  _ starve _ ). 

 

Fero can tell Uklan wants to stay in town, at least overnight, but the people here are wary and watchful. Fero doesn’t think it would do them any good to fall asleep in a town like this. He also doesn't think it would be a good idea to tell Uklan the reason outright. 

 

“I thought you wanted to be a real adventurer!” says Fero, “You know, get out, experience life!”

 

“I just thought there’d be more to it than sleeping on the cold ground,” sighs Uklan.

 

“Well maybe something big will happen on our way to  _ saving of whole of Hieron _ ,” snaps Fero, “sorry that preventing the end of the world is so boring for you.”

 

He purposefully walks one pace faster than Uklan for the rest of the day.

 

 

Of course, the next day, something big does happen.

 

It’s a completely ordinary-looking spot, green grass with patches of still-melting snow, winter flowers poking their heads up, seeking the long-gone sun. Lying on the completely ordinary-looking spot is a tall, glowing being. The light coming from them isn’t bright, more of a dull glow than anything, but it hurts Fero’s eyes to look directly at them.

 

“Is that--?” says Uklan, feet slowing as he and Fero approach them, “It is! A star! I've never seen one up close before.”

 

Fero nudges them with his toe. They don’t move. “A dead star, I think.”

 

Uklan’s face falls, and he kneels down, rolling them onto their back. He gasps and Fero soon sees why-- the star has a gash along their side, deep and still bleeding.

 

“Isn’t there anything--” Uklan looks up at him, “can’t you do something?”

 

“Me?” says Fero, “Why would you think  _ I _ can do anything about this?”

 

“You’ve met a star before!”

 

“Yeah, when Hella killed it,” says Fero.

 

The glow of the star pulses, growing dimming.

 

“Ugh, fine,” says Fero.

 

He kneels down next to the star, hesitantly holding his hands over the star’s wounds. He's not totally sure what he's doing-- no one has experience with healing a star, and he doesn't have much experience in healing other people, period. Well, apart from himself. He hasn't gotten a lot of requests for his healing abilities over the years. Most people forget he can.

 

He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to pull at the frayed threads inside himself, picturing them coming together to cover the star’s wound like a bandage. He pictures sap covering cuts in a tree's bark, and the side of mountains crushing against each other, and streams flowing into a lake. 

 

His palms heat up and start to itch.

 

A trickle of sweat rolls down the side of his face. 

 

The star's eyes flicker open. They're as bright blue as the summer sky. The small pinpricks of light glowing in them faintly dart from one side to the other as they scan over Fero and Uklan. 

 

Uklan makes a small, distressed sound.

 

“Hey, welcome back,” says Fero. 

 

He leans back so the star can sit up. Their wound has closed over under Fero's hands. The scar tissue glitters blue-grey in the moonlight, reminding Fero a little of smooth river stones. Their hand goes to their side, long fingers poking gently at newly-healed skin. 

 

They look at Fero. “Thank you.”

 

Their voice has a strange ,rough echo to it, as though the sound is coming from far away instead of from their throat. 

 

Fero smiles brightly. “You're welcome.”

 

The star's gaze drifts off Fero, looking cautiously down the road, and then back the way Fero and Uklan had come. 

 

“Where am I?”

 

“Somewhere in between the New Archives and Ordena,” says Uklan. He looks down at the map in his hand, frowning. “I think.”

 

Fero rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh,” says the star faintly. 

 

They try to sit up more, stopping as they flinch, their hand going to their side. 

 

“Whoa, hey,” says Fero, setting a hand on their elbow, “you should probably take it easy.”

 

“I do not think this is where I am supposed to be,” says the star.

 

They sound distressed, their body tensed like a sparrow preparing for flight.

 

“It's okay,” says Fero, “we've got a map, we'll help you figure it out. Where are you supposed to be?”

 

The star pauses. “I do not know. Not here.” They look up to the dark sky above them. “I think I fell off course.”

 

“I've been there,” says Fero. 

 

They look down at Fero curiously.

 

“I’m a bird sometimes,” says Fero.

 

They nod, their face serious.

 

Uklan holds out the map, pointing out various landmarks. The star nods, not interrupting Uklan as he goes deeper into detail about some locations than is necessary. If anything, the barrage of information seems to settle them. 

 

Fero takes the opportunity to check on the plant. It’s fine, if a little dry, and he pours some of the water from his flask onto it. He feels the eyes of the star on him, and holds the flask out to them.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Um, water?” says Fero.

 

“I am fine,” says the star.

 

“Suit yourself,” says Fero, giving the plant a little more before he puts the flask back into his pack. “So do you know where you’re supposed to be yet?”

 

“No,” says the star, “the map is unhelpful.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Fero can see Uklan look down, carefully folding the map up.

 

“I will go with you,” continues the star, “until I find where I am supposed to be.”

 

Uklan looks up quickly. “You-- with us?”

 

“Yes,” says the star simply.

 

“I don’t know if you want to do that,” says Fero, “we’re kind of going to a dangerous place.”

 

“In these times, everywhere is dangerous,” says the star.

 

Fero wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, but we’re going to the heat and the dark. That’s a little more dangerous than most places.”

 

They blink. “What is your business with the heat and the dark?”

 

“We’re going to save Hieron,” says Uklan, with certainty.

 

The star looks back to Fero.

 

“We’re going to try talking to it.”

 

The star nods, and Fero feels a deep relief that he doesn’t have to go into detail on this plan, since he doesn’t exactly  _ have _ any details just yet.

 

“I think I will be able to walk, if needed,” says the star.

 

“Good,” says Fero, “I’m pretty strong but I don’t know if I can carry you all the way there.”

 

He’s not entirely sure, but Fero thinks he sees the corners of the star’s mouth quirk upwards as they stand. They’re very tall, taller than the he remembers the star Hella killed being. The glow of their body lights the ground around them like torchlight, their robes fluttering as though they’re underwater.

 

Uklan clears his throat. “Well.”

 

“Yeah,” says Fero, shaking himself out of his daze, “come on.”

 

The star keeps an easy pace with them, their steps steady and slow. They don’t seem to be in any pain, but Fero’s not sure what a star in pain looks like. 

 

When Uklan trips on the icy ground the star reaches out and steadies him. Uklan fliches.

 

“Sorry,” says Uklan, “I wasn’t expecting--”

 

“I apologise,” says the star.

 

Uklan waves a hand. “No, it’s fine, I-- your hand’s just a little cold.”

 

The star looks down at their hand, where it’s still resting on Uklan’s shoulder. “I understand.”

 

“It’s not a bad thing,” says Uklan, speaking fast, “it’s... I wasn’t expecting it, that's all.”

 

The star nods.

 

“I wasn’t expecting a lot of things about this journey,” says Uklan.

 

Uklan and the star both look up at each other at the same time. With the light of the star, Fero can see a faint blush on Uklan’s cheeks. 

 

Fero clears his throat. “Come on. I want to get to that stream before we take a break.”

 

Uklan’s cheeks flush deeper. “Yes. Right.”

 

The star’s hand doesn’t drop from Uklan’s shoulder, keeping him steady as they cross the icy ground. Fero presses his lips together to stop himself from commenting on it and watches where he's putting his own feet. 

 

 

It feels late by the time the make camp, the moons just beginning to set. Uklan draws a circle in the hard ground, stacking pebbles on top of one another and twirling sticks until a fire spurts from the ground.

 

“I think using flint might’ve been faster,” says Fero.

 

“What’s the point of knowing these patterns if I can’t use them?”

 

Uklan’s looking deep into the fire, the light of it throwing strange shadows on his face. Some of his braids have come undone, and Fero wonders if they’re part of pattern too, or just for show. Lem used to put patterns in his hair sometimes, little patterns for warmth or to prevent sunburn.

 

Fero shakes off the memory, focusing in on Uklan, the tired slope of his shoulders, the heavy lines on his forehead as he frowns down at the fire.

 

“I can take first watch if you want,” offers Fero, deliberately casual.

 

Uklan’s shoulders relax. “Yeah, sure.”

 

It doesn’t take long for Uklan to fall asleep, breaths deep and even. The silence seems sharp, the cold air sticking in Fero’s throat when he draws breath. The star seems unaffected, their head tilted up to the dark sky above.

 

Fero carefully takes the plant out of the side pocket of his bag, checking it over. It’s still cold, still missing the warmth of the sun, but it seems perkier, more awake when it talks to him. Fero pats the side of the pot, setting it next to him.

 

“Why do you speak to it?” asks the star, their voice is soft, their head angled away from Uklan.

 

“Same reason I talk to most people,” says Fero, “Because it talks back.”

 

The star frowns. “I do not hear it.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” says Fero, “Most people can’t.”

 

“I am not worried,” says the star.

 

“Can stars normally hear plants?” says Fero after a moment, “I would’ve thought you guys were too far away.”

 

“We cannot. But I am a star no longer. Stars hang in the sky. Or they become  _ that _ .” They point towards the tall white wall of light to the southeast. “I am something different now.”

 

Fero tilts his head, squinting against the light of them. “So what are you?”

 

They consider this for a moment. “I do not know yet. I will let you know when I find out.”

 

“Sure,” said Fero, “you let me know.”

 

They watch the fire for a moment, the cracking of the branch the only sound in the darkness.

 

“So what should I call you?” says Fero.

 

“I do not know that either,” they say.

 

“Yeah but like, practically, that’s kind of annoying,” says Fero, “what about if I need to your attention specifically?”

 

“I am sure you will figure it out.”

 

Fero thinks that might be a joke. It's hard to tell if they're smiling, but he smiles back anyway, just in case.

 

 

Their path the next day leads them to another empty village, but where the last village was empty from fear, this one is empty from death. Bodies of villagers and Ordenan soldiers alike lie in the streets, left where they had fallen. Unlike the village Fero encountered with the others on the way to the New Archives, this one has no presence of the undead, not even ghosts. 

 

Fero hovers by doorways, peering in windows, just in case. The food inside people’s homes has spoiled even as the cold preserved their bodies. Uklan averts his gaze from the bodies, walking quickly past them. The star follows him, their gaze lingering on scorched walls and broken windows.

 

As they reach the other side of the town they can see the initial impact of the Ordenan forces, the places where canon fire ripped through the town’s defences to let the soldiers through, the places where small moment of victory for the town became large losses.

 

Movement in the ditch catches Fero’s eye and he stops, reaching out to grab Uklan’s arm. “Did you see that?”

 

“That’s not funny Fero,” says Uklan.

 

“I’m not trying to be funny,” says Fero. “I think I saw something, down there.”

 

He points down. Uklan looks and then turns away, covering his mouth. The star’s gaze stays fixed where Fero had pointed, watching carefully.

 

“Yes,” they say, “I see it.”

 

One of the bodies in the ditch is moving, an Ordenan soldier, her chest barely moving up and down as she breathes, blinking up at the dark sky.

 

“Hey!” calls Fero, “You alright down there!”

 

Uklan grabs Fero’s arm. “What are you  _ doing _ ?”

 

“Well, we helped the last person we found on the side of the road,” says Fero.

 

“That’s different!” hisses Uklan, “She’s  _ Ordenan _ .”

 

“Oh, so we’re only helping the people you like?” says Fero.

 

“That’s not-- you know Ordenans are  _ dangerous _ , right?” says Uklan. “Like, they want to kill us all? She probably killed the people that are down in there with her, and this is some sort of trap.”

 

“She’s lying down there in a ditch with a bunch of corpses on the off chance that some people might walk past and might stop to help her?” says Fero. “Seems like a pretty bad plan to me.”

 

“Fero--”

 

Fero ignores him, leaning on part of a collapsed wall so he can lean over the woman. The star moves closer too, casting their glow into the ditch. Fero can see her light hair matted with blood, skin pale and lips bloodless in a way he recognises only too well.

 

“Oh,” says Fero, “she’s dead too.”

 

The woman’s eyes flick to Fero and then back up again. “Yes, I’m dead. So leave me alone.”

 

“Well,” says Fero, “You’re only a little dead. You’re not all-the-way dead.”

 

Uklan fidgets and looks desperately at Fero. Fero avoids his gaze.

 

“I am dead,” says the woman again, “I am dead,  I am dead, I am  _ dead _ .”

 

“So?”

 

“So I shouldn’t be  _ here _ ,” says the woman, and she sounds angry now. “I shouldn’t be breathing, and seeing, or hearing you. I shouldn’t  _ be _ anything.”

 

“Yeah but that’s not how it works now, right?”

 

“But it  _ should _ ,” says the woman, her voice hoarse.

 

“Sure,” says Fero easily, “couldn’t agree more.”

 

“Fero, come on--” says Uklan, putting a hand on Fero's shoulder.

 

Fero shakes it off. “No, sure, absolutely, that’s how it’s supposed to go, but it’s all different now so you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

 

“Just deal with it? Just  _ deal _ with being an  _ abomination _ ?”

 

“Well what’s your other option?” says Fero. “Just lie here and wait and hope death finds you? That seems boring.”

 

“If I lie here long enough death will come,” says the woman. “It has to.”

 

She glares up at the sky, resolute. Fero wonders how long she’s been here.

 

“What if you went to it instead?” says Fero.

 

The woman blinks a few times, her pale eyes focusing on Fero as though she’s only just seeing him. She frowns.

 

“What?”

 

Fero grins. “Hi. We’re going to go to the end of the world. That seems like a place death might hang out.”

 

“The end of the world?” says the woman faintly.

 

“Yeah,” says Fero, “it’s called the heat and the dark. We’re going to try talking to it.”

 

She blinks, turning her head to get a better look at him. “Why?”

 

Fero shrugs. “I dunno. Might work.”

 

“That,” says the woman after a moment, “is a truly terrible sounding plan.”

 

“Better than lying in a ditch because you think you’re supposed to be dead,” says Fero, “What’s your name?”

 

“Amara.”

 

“I'm Fero, and this is Uklan and our friend who's a star,” Fero extends a hand. “You want to come help us talk to the end of the world?” Amara hesitates for a moment. “Come on. The end of the world is a way cooler place to die than  _ this _ .”

 

Amara lets out a long breath. “Fine.”

 

She sits up stiffly, pushing herself up with her sword. The arm that grips the hilt is translucent, and Fero can feel Uklan take a quick step back at the sight of it. The star puts their hand on his shoulder, which seems to steady him a little even as he looks warily at Amara.

 

Fero offers her a hand as she crawls out of the ditch but she ignores him. Fero shrugs. Sometimes Ordenans are just like that.

 

“Do you, uh, need to get anything before we go?” says Fero.

 

“I’m dead,” says Amara, “What could I need?”

 

“I dunno, like a bedroll and stuff,” says Fero.

 

Amara frowns. “I… I think my company took my things with them when they left.”

 

“You mean after they  _ murdered _ everyone in this entire town,” says Uklan.

 

“After they’d  _ cleansed  _ this town,” says Amara.

 

“Hey,” says Fero, loudly enough to pull their attention back to him. “So do you have a bedroll and stuff or do we need to try and find one before we leave.”

 

“I can sleep on the ground,” says Amara, “I don’t need one.”

 

Fero shrugs. “If you say so. Uklan, which way from here?”

 

Uklan shoots Amara one last glare before he pulls the map from his pocket, unfolding it and tracing a finger along it, searching for their path. The star copies his movement, their finger following along behind his. Uklan ducks his head a little further, trying to hide a smile.

 

Fero rolls his eyes, turning to look at the road ahead of them. There’s not much to see in the darkness, the path ahead fading into the black forest.

 

Amara rolls her shoulders, stretching her neck from one side to the other before she sheathes her sword. She does a small double-take as she looks down at her ghost arm, her translucent hand flexing as though she’s testing the motion.

 

Fero lets Uklan lead the way as they head out. He’s not as familiar with this part of the forest, and anyway it seems like Uklan might need the distraction. The star keeps pace with Uklan, lighting the way with their glow. They speak to each other in low voices as they walk, and Fero tries to tune them out, listening to the quiet sounds of the forest instead of their private words.

 

Fero keeps watching Amara out of the corner of his eye. After all, the last undead person he helped turned out to be a murderous bandit, and the Ordenans he’s met have mostly been trying to kill him or kill whoever he was with. Amara marches like she’s in a soldiers parade despite her limp throwing her timing off-beat-- eyes forward and shoulders straight. Even with her armour’s Ordenan crest, she reminds Fero more of Hadrian than of Hella.

 

 

As they make camp, Uklan lays his bedroll next to the star with such an air of deliberation that for a moment Fero thinks it’s part of a pattern. It might be, but its main purpose seems to be so that Uklan can be as close to the star as possible without touching them. Fero rolls his eyes, teasing remarks dying on his tongue as he sees Amara frown at the two of them.

 

The star seems not to notice, smiling down at Uklan where he’s looking over their map.

 

“So,” says Fero loudly, before Amara can say anything, “Uklan, Alberthia, how much further do we have to go?”

 

“Alberthia?” says Uklan.

 

“I thought I’d test out names,” says Fero, looking up at the star, “see if we can find one you like.”

 

The star nods.

 

“Alberthia,” says the star slowly, “I do not think that is it.”

 

Amara snorts.

 

Fero shrugs, grinning up at them. “Maybe I’ll get it next time, Bacia.”

 

“Perhaps next time,” says the star. The corners of their mouth twitch upwards.

 

Uklan shakes the map, bring their attention back to him. Amara walks over to look over Uklan’s shoulder, and Uklan’s shoulders hunch inwards.

 

“I’d say we have a week at most, if we keep making good time,” says Uklan.

 

Amara nods, her eyes scanning down the map. “And when we get there?”

 

Everyone looks at Fero. “Um. Then we talk to it?”

 

“That’s your entire plan?” says Amara incredulously.

 

“Hey, I have a whole week to think of the specifics,” says Fero, “that’s plenty of time.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” says Uklan pointedly.

 

His hands shake a little as he folds up the map. Fero waits until Amara retreats to the opposite side of the fire before he leans closer to whisper to Uklan.

 

“You know, if you want to take Cay here,” whispers Fero, gesturing to the star, “and go back to the Archives… I get it.”

 

“I do not think Cay is it either,” says the star, “and I wish to travel with you. I still do not know where I am supposed to be.”

 

“I’m not going either,” says Uklan quickly, “I-- look, I’m not going to pretend i’m having a great time here but this is-- at the Archives, I was always the best at everything. Any pattern they could make I could perfect and then find eight other ways to do it before breakfast.” He looks down at his hands. “Nothing ever felt new because it was always so easy. This is-- I can’t go back to that now.”

 

Fero nods. He gets that feeling. It’s an old one, for him, older than hearing trees talk or growing feathers.

 

The star nods too, and they reach out and cover Uklan’s hands with their own. The light of their hand illuminates Uklan’s surprised and pleased smile from below.

 

Fero steps back to shake out his bedroll and settle in for the night. When he looks over to them again the star’s hand is still on Uklan’s, their fingers tangled together with his.

 

 

Amara is a quiet travel companion, rarely speaking more than a few words during conversation and never requesting breaks. More than once, Fero catches her staring down at her ghostly hand, flexing her fingers.

 

She’s quiet when they make camp for the night too, but she’s a light sleeper.

 

The star doesn’t seem to sleep at all. Sometimes, Fero is woken by their large, cold hand on his sweat-soaked back.

 

“I did not want you to wake Uklan,” says the star.

 

“Wow, thanks Devan,” says Fero.

 

They incline their head, settling back down next to Uklan.

 

Fero scrubs a hand over his face. Amara is watching him from across the fire.

 

“You talk in your sleep a lot, you know that?” says Amara.

 

“What?” 

 

“You talk,” says Amara slowly, “in your sleep. A lot.”

 

“Oh,” says Fero, not sure if this is one of those things people find annoying or endearing about him. He turns to the star, keeping his tone light. “Evan, what do I say?”

 

Amara shrugs. “Nonsense mostly. Stuff about your mum.”

 

Fero makes a face. “What?”

 

“I mean, you mumble,” says Amara, “but you talk a lot about your mother and glory.”

 

Fero’s hands still from when he was wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “Oh, that’s… Mother Glory’s not my mother. That’s-- that was her name.”

 

“Ah,” says Amara.

 

“It’s fine,” says Fero, picking at a loose thread, “it’s good to see her, even if-- whatever. I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“That’s fine,” says Amara.

 

She rolls onto her back, looking up at the starless sky. Fero tilts his head back to look up at it too, swallowing around the ache in his throat. He wishes he could remember more of his dream than the ending. 

 

 

Fero tries to avoid sleep the next night, staring deep into the fire as the others go to sleep. Uklan, as usual, drops off almost as soon as he lies down. Amara takes longer before her breathing evens out, her hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword. Fero almost wishes he could turn into an animal to sleep, but that particular power of his is reserved purely for emergencies until he can be sure he’s not erasing things from existence.

 

He’s just about the settle down when Amara twitches. It’s like she’s being hit with invisible blows, flinching in her sleep. She’s barely making a sound, but in the firelight Fero can see tear tracks down her face. He shoots the star a look and they look impassively back at him.

 

Fero reaches over and squeezes her foot, leaning back quickly just in case her waking reaction is to swing her blade. It’s not. Instead she sits upwards, panting, her hand going to her spectral arm.

 

“Sorry,” says Fero, “it looked like you were having a bad dream?”

 

Amara stares at him for a moment, and then shakes herself. “Yes. I was. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” says Fero.

 

They both look away from each other, towards the fire.

 

“I think I have coffee in my pack somewhere,” says Fero.

 

“Sounds great,” says Amara.

 

The star watches curiously as Fero goes through the slow process of boiling the water, stirring, pouring the coffee into two tin cups. 

 

“Florence, do you want some?” 

 

The star shakes their head. 

 

Amara takes a small sip and closes her eyes. “I feel like this is some kind of punishment.”

 

“Come on, I know it's road coffee but it's not  _ that  _ bad,” says Fero. 

 

“Not that,” says Amara, “I meant. Not being dead.”

 

“Better than the alternative,” says Fero. 

 

“Easy for you to say,” says Amara. She pauses, looking down at her hands where they're wrapped around the small tin cup. “There's a place, just a mile away from the farm my family works on, where there's this big old tree growing over a lake, and one of my sisters tied a long piece of rope to one of the high branches. We used to go out there and swing out over the water and jump as far as we could.” She runs her thumb over the rim of the cup. “I'll never see that place again.”

 

“You could,” says Fero, “I know I said the heat and the dark would be a cool place to meet death but you... I mean, you could head there now, get a boat in whatever’s left of Velas, sail yourself right over there.”

 

Amara shakes her head. “I can't. My family-- they will already have been told I'm dead. And even if they haven't I think  _ this _ ” she gestured to her spectral arm, “is kind of a giveaway.”

 

“Wouldn't they be happy you aren't dead?” says Fero. 

 

“But I am,” says Amara, her voice cracking, “I am an abomination, and I can never return to Ordenan soil.”

 

“I think you could,” says Fero. 

 

“You're from Rosemerrow. You wouldn't understand,” says Amara. 

 

Fero snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause Rosemerrow’s so accepting. Although I'm probably a bad example of a citizen, considering I haven't lived there in like ten years.” Fero pauses, considering her for a moment. “And also I kind of erased part of their coastline, so if they knew I did that, they probably wouldn't be the biggest fan of me.”

 

Amara looks up at him. “You what?”

 

“Well, I didn't do it on purpose,” says Fero. 

 

“How do you erase a  _ coastline  _ by accident?”

 

“I can turn into stuff,” says Fero, “and it  _ used  _ to work just fine. But lately the things I turn into have been… disappearing.”

 

“Disappearing? Like, you killed them?” For a vicious Ordenan soldier, Amara sounds very upset. 

 

“There's no bodies, it's more like,” Fero thinks for a moment, “you know how there used to be wolves? A few months ago I turned into a wolf, and now, no more wolves.”

 

“That's… bad,” says Amara. 

 

“Well, I wouldn't have done it if I'd  _ known, _ ” snaps Fero. 

 

“Wouldn't you?” says Uklan. 

 

Fero looks sharply over at him. Uklan still looks half-asleep, leaning slightly against the star's side. 

 

Fero sighs, looking down at his own cup. “I don't know. Maybe.”

 

“Will talking to this heat and dark fix it?” says Amara. 

 

Fero's not sure if she's talking about herself or him, but he knows an answer that's fitting for both. 

 

“I hope so,” says Fero. 

 

He raises his mug in a toast, and Amara does the same. 

 

 

Fero's not sure what he expected the end of the world to look like. It's almost pretty, in a way. The purple and black fire swirls before them, the flames cold, leaching heat from the area around it as it consumes the land. Beyond it is nothing at all.

 

“It reminds me a little of the sky,” says the star.

 

“How do you talk to the sky,” says Uklan thoughtfully.

 

They’re all silent for a moment, looking at the flames, and then Amara laughs, loud and bright, bracing her hands on her knees.

 

“What?” says Uklan. 

 

“It’s just--” says Amara, once she’s gotten control of herself. “It’s just this is such a  _ terrible _ idea. Just  _ terrible _ . How are you supposed to talk to that?”

 

She gestures to the wide expanse of Nothing in front of them. 

 

“I figured I'd just go up and start talking,” says Fero. “I can talk to animals and plants and rocks, so fire should be no problem, right?”

 

“Right,” says Uklan. His voice wavers a little. 

 

“So,” Fero rocks back on his heels. The plant bumps into his side where it's sitting in the side pocket, a comforting weight. “You guys coming or what?”

 

Amara huffs a breath, looking past Fero at the wide expanse of Nothing. She swings her pack onto her shoulder, translucent hand resting comfortably on her sword hilt.

 

“Sure,” says Amara evenly, “I've got nowhere to be.”

 

“Yes,” says the star, smiling down at Fero. “I think I came down in the correct place after all.”

 

The star puts their hand of Fero’s shoulder, and Amara puts her hand on his other shoulder. Their hands are both cold, but they have a comforting weight to them.

 

Fero looks over his shoulder to Uklan, waiting until Uklan meets his gaze. 

 

Uklan sighs. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go talk to the heat and the dark.”

 

The star reaches out their free hand to Uklan and Uklan takes it. Uklan smiles down at their intertwined fingers. 

 

The star looks down to Fero. “Ready to go?”

 

Fero takes a deep breath in. “Yeah, Gregory.”

 

“You know,” says the star, as they begin walking, “I think I have decided what I would like to be called.”

 

Fero grins up at them. “Oh yeah? Lay it on me.”

 

“Help.”

 

Uklan shakes his head, huffing a laugh. Amara laughs too, bright as the star, her shoulder bumping into Fero’s.

 

They blink, tilting their head to the side. “What?”

 

“Help isn’t a name, it’s more of an action?” says Uklan, “You ask for help, you give help, you need help, et cetera.”

 

They nod. “Then it is all the more fitting. I am an action, I was asked for. I give what I can, I am needed. Am I not help?” They pause. “I do not see how it is any more strange than Uklan or Fero.”

 

“Hey!” says Fero.

 

Uklan laughs, the anxiety coming out from his shoulders just a bit. He leans his head against Help’s arm for a moment. Fero wishes he could give them both more time to let the moment linger.

 

Amara taps her fingers against Fero’s shoulder and he nods. He looks again to the cold purple fire, closer now, and lets out a breath.

 

“Let’s go say hi to the apocalypse.”

 

The other three walk beside him as he approaches. The flames of the heat and dark are cold, but the three by his side make Fero warm enough to bear it.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (it was maddie who came up with the star's final name and I want them to get full credit on this!!)
> 
> come say hi on twitter/tumblr: mariusperkins


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